


One Is The Lonliest Number

by Anilkex



Series: You Are The Third Winchester [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Sam, Gen, Sick Adam, Sick Sam Winchester, Third Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2467622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anilkex/pseuds/Anilkex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's feeling like the unimportant Winchester, and learns to re-appreciate his siblings.</p>
<p>Third Winchester AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Is The Lonliest Number

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: If you’re not familiar with my “You Are The Third Winchester” AU, please check out my profile for an explanation.
> 
> A/N 2: This story breaks from tradition - it isn’t told by Kate, which I know, has caused me to pull stories in the past. But this is a Sam story, which changes the rules a bit. I wanted a Sam-centric story, and in order for that to happen, we need to hear his voice. It’s still third person, but Sam’s telling the story.
> 
> Disclaimer: Own. Nothing. Just. Playing.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Sam, why does everything have to be a fight with you?”

“Everything _isn’t_ a fight with me, Kate. Just the things that piss me off!”

“That doesn’t leave a lot of wiggle room.”

“Fuck you. Just because it’s not important to you or - “

“ _Hold the fuck on._ How can you even say that? _To me?_ ”

Sam stood still for a moment, heart pounding, his breathing harsh. He glowered at his sister, who glared right back, hands on her hips. 

He knew he crossed the line on that one, but he wasn’t going to back down now.

“I don’t think we should be out hunting right now! We still don’t know what the deal is with this demon blood, and parading around in front of other hunters…” He held out his hands in a gesture of ‘what more need I say?’

Kate narrowed her eyes. “Just because I agree with Dean on this one, doesn’t mean this isn’t important. There’s still nothing we can do right now! You’re not gonna go all apeshit on us, Sam. I just _know_ that. Even though it isn’t normal demon blood, I - “

“I’m very well aware of whose blood is in me. _Thanks._ And just because it’s _that bastard’s blood,_ doesn’t mean everything has to be in Dad’s control. _I’m_ the one who has to deal with it!”

“I thought we were dealing with it _together_.” Kate’s hands slid from her hips, her posture shifting as her voice softened.

“No, _I’m_ trying to deal with it in a rational manner, and you and Dean still want me to follow you around while you hunt random shit across the country. And now you’re dragging _Adam_ along for shits and giggles.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “This hunt is close to his school, so we’re clearing out his dorm room. We haven’t had a chance to do that, and it hardly counts as shits _or_ giggles.”

Sam rolled his eyes right back at her, and turned away, only to spin back and face her once again. “ _He doesn’t have to be here._ We could’ve gotten his _shit_ another time.” He lowered his voice, almost pleading with her. “Why can’t you side with me? Just this once?”

Kate sighed. “This isn’t about taking sides, Sam, and if you want to go there, I side with you plenty. I just think you’re wrong this time. _You’re freaking out._..I understand that. Out of _everyone_ , I understand that. But freaking out over something we can’t change or fix or do _anything about_ isn’t helpful or productive. “

Sam barked a laugh and threw his hands in the air. “You know what? I don’t need this.”

A hurt expression crossed Kate’s face, and she took a step towards him. “Sam…”

He stepped back, shaking his head. “You have Adam to play with, now. I’m leaving.”

Before Kate could say another word, Sam slammed the motel door behind him.

**xxxxx**

Grumbling under his breath, Sam scuffed his way down the block to a bar. Of course their motel was near a bar. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not as if they could possibly find a clean bed near a nice market, or interesting bookstores.

It was always a seedy, shithole bar, where Dean eventually hustled someone for cash, ensuring they’d never to see those people or this town again.

And it was raining. 

_Awesome._

He knew he was being selfish, that his behavior was uncalled for and even a little mean. 

But he was so goddamn fed up with entrusting Dad to figure everything out, while he sat with his thumb up his ass, waiting for an update. He hated how Dean always listened to whatever Dad said, and then Kate always followed Dean’s lead. It was as if he just wasn’t an important factor in the Winchester equation.

Even though he and Dean more or less made up after their double curse, he was still irritated by everyone’s inability to recognize the potential danger that exists in Sam. They insisted he was just fine, not a ticking time bomb, not a demon in disguise.

They just knew it.

Problem was, Sam didn’t. And that uncertainty was eating at him from the inside.

Now, they’re adding Adam in the mix...Adam who’s a great kid and all, and definitely has commonalities with Sam, but...and Sam _really_ didn’t like admitting this...he was jealous. Adam was adjusting to being a Winchester infinitely better than Sam ever did, and Adam’s only had a month or so to Sam’s twenty-five years. Everyone flocked to Adam, wanting to make sure he was okay, checking in, taking care, going out of their way to make anything and everything better. 

Adam was a better Youngest Winchester.

Besides. He was Kate’s new best friend.

Sam’s been feeling like he’s just in the way. Jess’s death was old news now, and even though he occasionally still had nightmares, he felt like everyone else moved on. Now he has demon blood in him, and not just any old demon blood, but Yellow Eyes’ Demon Blood. You think they care?

Not really.

It’s as if he used up all his sympathy and understanding cards with Jess. Now he just has to deal on his own, and as usual, wait for Dad to magically drop by Bobby’s with a plan of action.

Well, he was tired of waiting for Dad to figure out what was going on. He was tired of Dean still trying to distract him with hunts, rather than accept the possibility that Sam may not be...Sam. He didn’t want Kate _babying_ him anymore, and treating him like he doesn’t know the best course of action for his own damn life. 

And...he didn’t want to watch the relationship between her and their Adam grow steadily stronger.

He hated admitting that, too.

Trudging to the door of the aforementioned seedy bar, Sam yanked it open harder than he intended, and stomped inside. Droplets of water pooled at his feet as he shook out his jacket. He shivered at the temperature change from outside’s steady rain to inside’s stuffiness. Squelching his way to a bar stool, Sam sat in a huff and ordered a beer with two shots of whiskey.

He contemplated what to drink first, not sure which would sit better in his stomach. Kate would know. She’d say…

Sam shook himself. He didn’t fucking care what she’d say. He picked up the whiskey and slammed it back, wincing at the burn and chasing it down with a swig of domestic bliss.

He could hear Dean’s laughter and see Kate’s smile and smell the car oil on Dad and he ordered another round while swallowing the second shot.

Silvery laughter rang in his ears. He turned to his left and saw a beautiful blonde, leaning against the bar on her elbows. 

He blinked.

“You look like someone who needs a little distance from life for a while.” She smiled at him, saluting him with her own shot before tossing it back. 

The alcohol warming his resolve, Sam smiled back and shrugged. “Maybe I need more than just a little distance.”

She laughed again and sauntered closer, her fingers trailing along the counter until she stood next to him. “My name’s Jessa. What’s yours?”

Sam swallowed hard as her fingers traced up his arm. “Um...Sam…”

The bartender brought over a fresh round, and Sam quickly drank another shot.

Jessa perched on a stool, her bright blue eyes completely focused on him. “So… _Sam._..what is it that you need, _exactly?_ ”

**xxxxx**

The next morning, Sam woke with a blinding headache. He didn’t dare move, fearing everything he drank last night would end up on the floor, or worse, on him.

“Kate…,” he groaned.

No answer.

“Kaaaaaaate….,” he whined.

Still no answer.

He opened one eye.

“...Dean?”

The hum of the motel air vents was all he heard. He opened both eyes, wincing as the room spun lazily around him.

“.................Adam?”

Still nothing.

Sam sighed, closing his eyes once more. Kate was probably pissed at him for leaving, and since she tells Dean everything, they probably just decided to leave him here to suffer on his own for a while.

He would have rolled his eyes, but he figured that was a bad idea.

Taking advantage of his solitude, Sam tried to remember what the hell happened last night. He remembered Jessa, and her warm smile, her blue eyes, and how her mouth crinkled in the corners.

Like _his_ Jess.

He remembered drinking...a lot. He remembered telling her almost everything, minus specific details like demons and blood and hunting. He rambled about Dad, Dean, Kate, Adam, Bobby, the Impala, Dean’s music, leaving school and losing Jess. 

Jesus...that was practically everything. 

Sam tried rolling over, discovering the nausea had abated almost entirely, which was weird considering he was fairly certain that vomiting was in his near future. He tentatively sat up, and, sensing no gastric disturbances, made his way to the bathroom to clean up.

It wasn’t until he came out that he realized...

There was only _one_ bed in the room, and only _his_ stuff sat on the table, and only _his_ shaving kit lie in the bathroom. This wasn’t _their_ room…there were no traces of his siblings anywhere.

Sam stood frozen for a minute, his mind racing through the events of last night. Unfortunately, there’s a point where everything got incredibly fuzzy. He has no memory of returning to the motel, of ending his night with Jessa. Did he get his own room? Did he spend any time with her past the bar? Did he even _see_ Dean last night?

Cursing, Sam rummaged through his jacket in search of his phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he quickly flipped it open and started to call Dean when...there was no Dean in his contact list. No Kate, no Adam, no Dad. Even Bobby was gone.

He shakily walked to the bed and sat down, running his fingers through his hair.

Okay… _thinkthinkthink._..obviously he got whammied by something, and obviously Jessa was involved. He again went over everything from the night before...the flirting, the drinking, the conversation…

_The conversation…_

...she asked him what he needed distance from, and he unleashed all his pent up frustrations about his family.

_She gave him distance from his family._

Sam’s eyes widened. On one hand, this was a disaster, but on the other hand…

He absently toyed with his phone, wondering if this was a temporary situation. Obviously he had to find Jessa and get to the bottom of this...but until then, what else could he do but just...kinda...live on his own?

A wave of guilt crushed his chest. He loved his family - he knew that - and he really didn’t want to be separated from them permanently. But right now, he needed the break. Right now, he wanted to be on his own. So sure, he’ll hunt down Jessa and figure this whole mess out. 

But...until then…

Sam’s stomach growled. Snapping his phone shut, he decided to grab breakfast and make a plan while eating something that didn’t sit anywhere near a puddle of grease. He slipped into his still damp jacket, feeling a bunch of keys in the front pocket. Curious, Sam pulled them out.

Car keys. With one of those automatic door-locker-button-things that Dean thinks are for people too lazy to use a key.

_Huh._

Sam opened the motel room door, and pressed the button. A pleasant _beep-beep_ right in front of his room made him jump.

He stared at a gorgeous hybrid vehicle. The dark blue paint job was practically gleaming even though the sky was overcast.

Sam just blinked, not knowing what to do. 

This was a curse. Curses were bad. Curses were from evil sonsofbitches.

But the car looked so _niiiiiiiice._

Swallowing hard, Sam closed up the motel room and cautiously stepped to the driver’s door. He opened it ( _no squeak!_ ) and slid behind the wheel. 

_Oh My God._..there was actually enough room for his legs. Closing his eyes blissfully for a moment, Sam started the engine. Mellow music gently flowed from the stereo, and his seat auto-adjusted to the optimum comfort setting.

Again… _Oh. My. God._

Sam tried to hide a smile as he backed out and drove to the local diner.

**xxxxx**

Sitting in a booth by himself, Sam enjoyed the space, the quiet, and his multi-grain pancakes. Knowing he had to go back to that bar, Sam made a list of things to look for and ask about in a small notebook. He was in the middle of writing descriptions of various patrons he remembered from last night, when a bell rang as the front door to the diner opened.

“Why’d you bother drying your hair? It got wet in the rain anyway.”

“ _*sigh*_ Because sometimes, Dean, I like to pretend there’s estrogen in my body and make the attempt to not look like a piece of crap.”

“You never look like crap, Kate.”

“Thank you, Adam. “

“But that’s exactly my point. There’s no need to fuss and primp for an hour - “

“It was ten minutes, Dean. _Ten minutes._ I just didn’t want wet hair soaking into my shirt all day. Stop bitching and let’s get a table. You need your coffee before Adam and I decide to leave your grumpy ass while you’re sleeping.”

Dean snorted, “Like you could leave _this._ ”

“Stop tempting me.”

Sam’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. Afraid to turn around and stare, he was half-thankful, half-mortified that his siblings sat themselves in the booth across from Sam. He watched Dean sit, and for _one second,_ they made eye contact.

Sam’s heart skipped a beat.

Dean smiled politely, then turned his gaze towards a menu Kate held out for him. 

There wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

Dean’s smile turned warm, as he affectionately reached over and ruffled Kate’s hair. Sam watched her exaggerate straightening her coif, as Dean laughed outrageously at her actions.

A pang of… _something._..shot through him. Sam couldn’t identify what it was...there wasn’t a tangible definition. It just made him feel… _off_. It was some combination of feeling left out, unimportant, lonely and jealousy, all wrapped together.

Suddenly, the car didn’t seem like an adequate replacement.

Sam returned to his pancakes and tried to settle his heart rate. They were still talking, and he couldn’t help but listen to their conversation.

“I’ll get oatmeal.” Adam sounded tired, like he just woke up.

“Probably a good choice for your throat. I’m getting the….blueberry pancake special with eggs and extra bacon. Oooh - and hash browns. Fucking love those things.”

“Christ, Dean, you’re a walking heart attack waiting to happen.” Kate had that teasing tone to her voice...the one where she says shit just to bait you.

“Ehhh...if I end up with clogged arteries, I’ll just run into a nest of vamps and go down swinging.”

“Of course you will. I’m getting the multigrain pancakes...and...fuck it. Bacon.”

Dean laughed, and Sam almost frowned at how carefree he sounded… _without_ Sam.

Sam stole a glance at their table just as Adam turned to the side and sneezed. Dean grabbed some napkins, handing them over while Kate put her hand on Adam’s back. “You shoulda stayed in the room,” she said, her voice full of worry.

Adam shook his head. “Nah...I’m fine. Let’s just find this thing, grab my crap, and go home.”

The jealousy Sam felt earlier slammed him in the chest as he watched them dote on Adam. Bolstering his resolve to enjoy his time off, he grimaced before grandly shoving a forkful of whole grain into his mouth.

Sam surreptitiously watched Dean and Kate exchange a look as he chewed, convincing himself that _his_ food tasted _way_ better than bacon. Adam cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Order for me, okay?”

Kate nodded at him, “Sure thing.”

As soon as Adam was out of earshot, Dean slumped in the booth. “What is it?” Kate asked, nudging him.

Dean shrugged and ran a hand down his face. “I hate dragging him around on hunts...and now he’s sick. He’s still getting over the whole thing with his mom, and...getting his stuff from school’s just gonna suck.”

Kate leaned back. “I know, but what else can we do? He’s been cooped up at Bobby’s and he wants his shit. He’ll be okay with us.”

Shaking his head, Dean sat up and began twisting a napkin around his fingers. “No...I know that. It’s just… _*sigh*_ I wish he could finish school. He had a normal life going, you know? And I feel like we blew it for him.”

Sam’s eyes dropped towards his plate. He swallowed the pancakes which now tasted like cardboard, and folded his arms across his chest. He couldn’t _not_ listen at this point.

Kate murmured something at Dean - Sam couldn’t make out her words, but he recognized her tone. It’s the one she uses when she knows her brothers are beating themselves up over something that’s not their fault. She uses it on Dean a lot.

“Yeah...I know we saved his life. But I still feel bad. I want him to be happy, Kate. Hunting isn’t a happy profession. We gotta figure something else out for him.”

“We will - we just have to be patient. We’ll make it work. _Hey_...we will. Let’s focus on _now_ , and not the stuff we can’t affect yet, okay? One thing at a time.”

Sam’s gaze flickered at Dean, who was nodding through a cloud of resignation. He straightened in his seat when Adam returned with the waitress in tow.

Sam’s head was buzzing now. Is this how they were after Stanford? Did they feel that way about _him?_ Did they have a plan to get him back in school and he just didn’t know? If so...what else didn’t he know about?

Appetite gone, Sam sipped his coffee. They were now talking about the hunt, so he tuned back into their voices.

“So, we need to get into that house and interview the family. This thing’s already put one kid in the hospital.”

“I think we should just straight-talk this one...be honest with them about what’s going on. They’ve already gone to the press with their suspicions, so I bet we’ll be taken seriously.”

“Yeah...I think you’re right on this one, Kate. Let’s head over there as soon as we’re done. Adam - wait at the motel while we talk to them. If they let us back later to expel this thing, we’ll need you rested up and ready to go.”

“Sure thing, Dean.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at his pancakes. Adam didn’t argue about being left behind. There was no explosive scene at the table, no wheedling, no...nothing. It was actually pleasant.

Very _unlike_ Sam.

Their conversation turned to other topics, like what they were getting from Adam’s dorm, bars on campus, strategies for killing the poltergeist, and whether they liked the way Bobby grilled steak.

Sam wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He’d gotten a couple refills on coffee, and just sat there, hopping between eavesdropping and being lost in his own thoughts. 

After what seemed like no time at all, they got up as Dean left cash for their bill.

“Go ahead outside...I’m gonna take a leak.”

Kate nodded, ushering a tired-looking Adam out the front door. Sam reached into his pocket to pay his own bill, thinking he should drive to the bar and take a look around, when suddenly Dean plopped in the bench seat opposite him.

Startled, Sam looked up, eyes wide.

“So. Wanna tell me why you’ve been listening to our conversation since we got here? I hope you do, because if not, I’m gonna take you out back and beat the shit out of you _until_ you do. So let’s just do this the easy way.”

Dean looked downright pissed. Sam knew he was treading on dangerous ground - protecting his family against any threat was what Dean did, and right now, that threat was Sam.

Thinking fast, Sam licked his lips and shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry...I’m...I’m a hunter, like you. I think we’re both here on the same case. I shouldn’t have been listening, but it’s not often that you run into another hunter in the field.”

He held his breath, wondering if Dean would buy the story. It wasn’t technically a lie, but Sam knew he had an unfair advantage. Suspicious green eyes faced off with pleading hazel ones. Sam decided to try The Eyes on Dean in an attempt to win him over.

“Don’t doe-eye me. I’m not your boyfriend.” Despite the curt tone and harsh words, Dean seemed to relax a tiny bit (The Eyes _always_ work), so Sam figured it was okay to breathe. He still looked like he didn’t completely trust Sam, though. Jutting his chin at Sam, he demanded, “Who are you?”

Remembering an alias they used about a year ago in Georgia, Sam responded with, “Sam...Sam….Weston. I’m here about that poltergeist, too.”

Dean eyed him up and down, nodding. “I’m Dean Winchester. And you can just leave, because we got this one.”

He started getting up, and Sam knew he had about three seconds to make a choice.

Work with them, or let them walk away. 

Technically speaking, he _asked_ for the distance. Why would he voluntarily go back? Well, he wouldn’t actually be going back...he was independent of them, really. Besides, they could maybe help with his situation. As much as Sam wants to play around with being on his own, he didn’t know what other things were messed up as a result of the curse. He still is on his own, he told himself. He _is_ hunting...just...not under Dean’s command.

Besides. It was interesting watching them from the outside.

After compiling a list of _thoroughly objective_ reasons to warrant his next move, Sam took a deep breath and blurted, “There’s a witch in town, too - possibly working with a demon. I don’t know if it’s connected to the poltergeist or not, but she needs to be dealt with as well. I...wouldn’t mind some help on that one.”

That stopped Dean in his tracks. The word “demon” manipulates Winchesters like nothing else.

Dean settled back into the booth and narrowed his eyes at Sam. “And how do I know you’re not blowing smoke up my ass?”

Sam shrugged at him, taking a chance. “You don’t. I’m asking you to trust me.”

Dean folded his arms and leaned forward. “I just met you. I don’t trust you yet.”

Sam also leaned in. “I bet you’re a good judge of character. Look into my eyes, and tell me if I’m lying.”

Dean did just that, only to break away with a snort and an eye roll. _Score one for Sam._ “Alright. We’re going to drop off my brother then head to the ‘geist. Meet us there?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah...yeah I’ll do that.”

Dean appraised him once more before getting up and walking out the door, not looking back.

Sam slouched in his seat. _What the hell was he doing?_

**xxxxx**

Thankfully, Sam remembered the address of the haunted house. All _their_ case notes were in _their_ room. 

_Sam’s_ room was empty of any clues whatsoever. He had to work from memory, which wasn’t easy considering he’d been bitching about this case since the beginning and barely paid attention to it.

When the familiar rumble of the Impala pulled up behind him, Sam got out of his car and leaned against it. Kate exited first, eyeing him critically before glancing at Dean.

Sam sighed. _Christ, Kate, make a decision without running it past big brother first._

Dean barely nodded, and Kate gave a tiny shrug, shutting the heavy passenger door with a squeaky thud. Sam mentally patted _his_ baby for not having that horrific squeak. 

They walked over, and Sam straightened up, smiling.

Dean gestured at his sister. “Sam Weston, this is my sister, Kate.” Kate nodded at him.

“Hi - nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.

She squinted at him as she accepted the offered introduction. “You kinda look familiar.”

Sam projected innocence. “Really? Have we met before?” He wondered briefly how the curse could be broken by Kate and not Dean.

Kate tilted her head to the side. “Maybe? Anyway. Nice to meet you. Dean says you’re here on the same case, so we’ll be...working together?”

Sam nodded, adding, “And there’s a witch around somewhere, too.” _Way to sound like a little kid trying to be noticed._

“Right. Well, let’s get going.”

Kate turned and started up the path to the house. She was abrupt - which wasn’t like her at all. Frowning, Sam glanced sideways at Dean, who shrugged back. “Our brother...the one at the diner with us...he’s feeling a little under the weather. She doesn’t like being away from him when he’s not a hundred percent.”

Sam smirked, knowing that all too well. “Overprotective, huh?”

Dean stopped, forcing Sam to face him. “Look - we just just met. You don’t know anything about us, so don’t judge her. She has her reasons for being worried, so let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

Sam watched Dean’s mouth twitch in ready defense of their sister. He nodded again, slower this time, carefully choosing his words. “Yeah, sorry. I just...I have a sister, and she...she’s really over-protective. Didn’t mean to upset you.”

Dean shrugged again and started back up the path. “Didn’t upset me. Just tellin’ you not to judge people without knowing everything. You think your sister’s being _over_ protective. Maybe she’s just being protective, without the over part. Maybe she knows something you don’t, or maybe she just fucking worries because she loves you. You don’t know the whole story - just your perspective. That’s all I’m sayin.”

They reached the door and waited for someone to answer Kate’s doorbell ring. She gave Dean a questioning look, to which he rolled his eyes and nodded at the doorway, telling her to forget it and get back to the case.

Sam thought over Dean’s words, while studying Kate’s face. He could see the worry - the way her eyes wrinkled in the corner and the slight frown on her face. She looked like she hadn’t slept much, and occasionally, he caught her rubbing her shoulder - the one she injured years ago. It didn’t look like this was just about Adam’s cold...something else was going on.

Curiosity tugged at him. He wanted to know what was bothering her, but he had no claim to that information anymore. Sam brushed his hair out of his face, and sighed.

_So much for distance._

The door opened, bringing him out of his thoughts. A nice-looking, middle-aged woman stood warily before them. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her mouth dipped in a frown.

“May I help you?”

Kate spoke up. “Hello, Mrs. Smith. I’m Kate, this is my brother Dean and our...friend, Sam. We’re here about your house situation.”

Mrs. Smith’s lips pursed together as she shook her head and started to close the door. “I don’t feel like being laughed at today. Goodbye.”

“Wait, Ma’am…” Sam’s hand shot out and stopped the door from closing. Kate gave him a sharp look. Turning on his Eyes, Sam softened his voice.

“Look, we know you’ve had a rough time with the press and your neighbors, but we’re here because we believe you, and because we can help. All we’re asking for is five minutes of your time, and if you don’t agree with me, then we’ll leave. I promise.”

He poured everything into an earnest look, praying it would work. He’s done this a million times before. Hell, Dean’s _relied_ on his skill a million times before. But standing on this porch, with his own family not knowing him...he suddenly felt the need to prove himself. Maybe he wanted to see if they’d admire his skills from an unbiased position. Maybe he wanted to show off a little.

Or maybe he wanted them to recognize that he was useful. That he was an asset.

That he was important as a hunter, and not just a dramatic brother.

The woman wavered, Sam saw it, and flashed a sympathetic smile. 

She released a reluctant sigh and opened the door.

_Score, again._

The three walked inside. Sam was rewarded with a brief smile from Kate, and a ‘not bad’ nod from Dean. Sam puffed with pride, then just as quickly, wondered again, how we went from relishing his freedom to relying on their approval.

Mrs. Smith waved them towards the couch, seating herself on an upholstered armchair. “You came just in time. We’re leaving in a few hours.”

“Leaving?” Kate asked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

Mrs. Smith nodded. “Yes, we decided that enough is enough. Moving trucks will be here in a bit, and we’ll be on our way. I...I can’t stay here any longer.”

Dean remained standing. “Do you mind if I look around while they talk with you?” He pulled out his his EMF reader and waved it. “I’d like get some readings, if I can.”

“Go ahead,” she shrugged, her tone resigned. 

Dean nodded and wandered off, eyes darting between the reader and his surroundings.

“Can you tell us what’s been happening? We only know what we’ve read in the papers.” Sam mimicked Kate’s posture, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

Mrs. Smith sighed. “At first it was little things...noises like scratching and whispering when only one person was in a room. Then...then things started moving. Something would fall off a desk, but no one pushed it. Once, a basket of laundry spilled down the stairs, and it was in a bedroom behind a closed door all day.”

Sam and Kate nodded, listening intently.

Mrs. Smith swallowed thickly and her eyes filled with tears. Her voice breaking, she continued. “Then Suzy...she swears someone pushed her down the stairs. She just...I looked up...and one second she was standing there and the next...she…” A sob escaped from her lips, and they gave her a moment to collect herself.

Sam glanced at Kate before shifting a little on the couch. “Mrs. Smith, we believe you. We believe there’s something in this house that’s causing all these problems.”

She barked a laugh and wiped at her eyes. “Well, then you’re the only ones. Everyone else just laughs at me, telling me I’m in denial about my daughter’s _accident._ ”

Kate shook her head. “People always mock what they don’t understand. They only hear what they want to hear, and can’t open their minds to the possibility of something more.” She smiled sadly. “We see that a lot.”

Dean wandered back in the room, holding up the EMF reader. “This thing’s lighting up like crazy. Something’s here alright.” He walked over to Kate and eyed the teary woman. “Where’s the rest of your family?”

She sniffed and looked up at him. “At the hospital. My husband didn’t want to leave our daughter’s side, so I had him stay there while I handled the movers.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath as he scanned the room. “Okay, well, you definitely need to get out of here until we’ve dealt with this. You said the movers were coming in a few hours?”

She nodded back, rising slowly and gesturing at all the boxes. “I’m almost done packing. Most of the...activity...has been at night, so I figured it was okay for me to be here now.”

Sam asked, “How much more do you have to pack?”

Mrs. Smith’s shoulders sagged and she sighed. “I was only packing important things. I can’t finish packing everything by myself.”

“But you’ll have what you wanted packed done in time?”

She nodded again, “Oh, yes. I’m not staying here a minute longer than I need to. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Kate stood to stand with Dean. “We were hoping you’d let us in the house tonight. We’d like to try and banish whatever’s causing the problem. Would that be okay?”

Mrs. Smith’s eyes lit up. “Do you really think you can? Get rid of it, I mean?”

Dean smiled at her. “It’s what we do.”

Sam added, “And if we’re successful, you’ll be able to get your things without a problem.”

They exchanged phone numbers and gave Dean a spare key to the house. They left feeling a little better, knowing they had unrestricted access with the owner’s blessing to do whatever they needed to do. It was way better than breaking in and lurking around.

When they reached their cars, Sam stood awkwardly, fiddling with his keys. Kate continued to the Impala, but Dean walked over, his own keys dangling from his hand. 

“So...we have time to kill. I need to get Kate back to our motel, but...you wanna meet up and discuss this witch-demon problem?

“Um...yeah...yeah that sounds good.” Sam was a little surprised Dean asked to help, even though Sam used it as bait earlier. “She was at one of the bars in town.” He glanced at his phone to check the time. “They serve food, so they should be open soon. Wanna meet there in a couple hours?”

Dean nodded, eyes on his keys. “Sounds good. Kate got your number when you gave it to Mrs. Smith, so I’ll text you in a bit.”

Sam nodded back. Dean flipped his keys around a finger and caught them with a little jangling noise. He raised his hand in a goodbye, and left.

Sam waited until the familiar rumble of the Impala faded away. He slowly climbed in his car and put the key in the ignition slot.

Then...he sat there.

A headache was starting to form behind his eyes to accompany the conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling around his brain. 

It used to be pretty simple. Hunting pissed him off. Dad pissed him off. Dean’s blind faith in his father pissed him off. Kate’s blind faith in Dean pissed him off. Not being in school pissed him off. Kate with Adam pissed him off.

There was a pattern here.

Everything that pissed him off was removed from his life. 

Now, he’s looking at things from a completely different perspective, and while the negatives are still there, the positives are poking him in the gut. It’s not that _everything_ he saw was negative, it’s just...the negatives seemed to outweigh the positives most days.

Sam sighed. How shitty was that? 

Sam sees Dean’s devotion to their family, and it’s more than a little unsettling that it currently doesn’t include Sam. The conversation he overheard regarding Adam was more telling than anything so far. Sam’d always been so self-absorbed when it came to his life. He didn’t think anyone else cared about it as much as he did.

He sees Kate’s worry for something other than a family member...which has never really presented itself before. Something was gnawing at her, and Sam ached to help her.

Then there’s Adam...who brought out Jealous Sam, when really, _Sam_ should be helping _him_ adjust to the abrupt change in his life. If anyone knows how _that_ feels...

More than a little shame clawed at Sam’s conscience. Determination to find Jessa and end the curse spurred him to start the engine ( _dammit_ , the car was _really_ nice…) and head back towards town.

**xxxxx**

Sam decided to head to the library for a little research. Perhaps there was a history of covens or shaman or whothefuck knows. On the way, he spotted familiar landmarks, and noted that nothing else seemed to have changed since yesterday. Places were still where he remembered, including the bar. He was tempted to go inside alone, but decided it would be better to wait for Dean.

Because he totally had this “I’m doing it on my own” thing down pat.

The library didn’t enlighten the situation at all. No history of bizarre deaths or accidents, no legends or folklore on witches or anything else Supernatural, not even juicy gossip on the bar where Sam met Jessa.

Sam leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, letting out an explosive, pitying sigh. He was about to stack up the papers and books in front of him when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Grabbing it, he saw Dean’s number on the display. Funny how everything in their lives had changed, but he still had the same phone number.

He flipped open the phone and found a text message waiting for him.

_Ready? Text name of bar and address._

Sam straightened in his chair and quickly sent Dean the location. He then gathered all his research materials into a pile, deposited them at the reference desk with a smile, and headed out the door.

The Impala was waiting in the parking lot when Sam arrived. He saw Dean roll his eyes as the hybrid beeped, indicating that the doors were locked, as Sam made his way to Dean’s side.

“Too lazy to use a key, huh?” Dean shook his head as he pushed himself off the Impala and pointed at the signpost. “This is the place? It’s quite the dump, man.”

Sam huffed, shoving his keys into his pocket. “Tell me about it. I wasn’t here for the decor.”

Dean held the door open, as Sam walked inside. “So why were you here?”

Sam shook his head. “Long story.” 

Once his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he quickly scanned the room, looking for a familiar face. Even the bartender was different. Sighing, he led the way to a table in the back and heavily sat on a wooden bench, making a hollow _thud_ noise.

Dean sat next to him, making sure he could see the entire bar, and that his back was to the wall. “Lucky for you, we have time.”

A young waitress came over, a pen in hand, poised casually over a small pad of paper. “What can I get you boys?”

Dean flashed a brilliant smile, to which Sam inwardly rolled his eyes. Always looking for the hookup. “Besides your number? I’ll take whatever’s on tap, sweetheart.”

The waitress blushed a deep red, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She cleared her throat, and tried to hide a smile. “I can get you the beer, no problem. May have to wait on the number.”

“Aw, Darlin’, I got all day. No rush.” The smile grew wider as the blush grew deeper.

“Um...and for you?” She looked at Sam.

“I’ll…” Normally, Sam would never drink alcohol this early in the day. It wasn’t even noon. But nothing about today was normal. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

The waitress scribbled into her notepad, nodded, smiled at Dean, and left.

As soon as she was gone, Dean leaned forward on his elbows, his demeanor all business once again. “So. You were saying?”

Sam barked a laugh. “I was saying, huh?”

“Hey, man, you want my help with a witch, I need the info. So start talking.”

Sam spun a story about a couple of people who had met someone named Jessa at this bar, only to find their lives a little different the next morning. He kept it a little vague, and definitely left out the part about himself being cursed. Once the waitress brought their beer, Dean nodded and grunted at Sam’s story, between sips and swallows.

“So you think that Jessa chick is behind this? Do you see her here?” He took a long swallow and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

Sam looked around and sighed. “No, she’s not here. Even the bartender doesn’t look familiar.” Sam blinked. “...to the descriptions that were given to me.”

If Dean noticed his slip, he didn’t show it. He continued to survey the bar, taking in wait staff, the bartender, the cooks, even the other patrons. “Well, if no one looks like anyone you heard of, we got nothing.” He glanced at his watch. “But like I said, we do have time.” Dean settled back in his seat, his legs casually splayed in front of him. “So tell me your story, Sam Weston.”

Sam realized his leg had been bouncing nervously and the headache behind his eyes was making him squint, not to mention the sweat that was gathering on his palms and neck. All that sent Dean a signal loud and clear that something was up.

Amazing job he does, on his own.

Sighing, Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I’m broadcasting, huh?”

Dean chuckled and picked up his beer, not making eye contact. “A little. I believe you when you say there’s a witch around. The rest of that story’s bullshit, though. What do you really need help with?”

Sam fingered his glass of beer, wondering what to say. The need to just _talk_ to his brother gnawed at his gut, so he just...did.

“That witch, Jessa, or whatever her real name is, put a curse on my family. I’m trying to figure out what exactly happened and how to reverse it.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded, taking another sip. “Why you?”

Sam slumped against the booth and chuckled under his breath, confessing, “I was a magnet for meddling, I guess.” He absently twirled the glass. “I had a fight with my sister. Came here. Then things got...complicated.” He took a long pull from his glass, and set it down a little more forcefully than he intended.

Dean noticed. “What’d you fight about?”

Sam sighed. “Everything. Nothing. I...I may be...sick. We’re not sure. Other family is working on figuring out tests to run, and I’m feeling kinda...helpless, I guess. She’s so sure that I’m fine, and I just…”

“You don’t believe her.”

Sam shook his head. “I want to, man, I really do. But she and my brother just have no sense of urgency about this. They’re just so confident that everything’s okay. It’s driving me crazy. They won’t even consider the possibility that it isn’t.” _That I’m not safe to be around._

Dean pulled his legs in and shifted in his seat. He leaned on the table, his glass in both hands. “Kate’s always tellin’ me to relax about shit I can’t fix right in that moment. I tend to lean towards doing something. I’m not good at waiting, you know?” 

Sam grunted. He knew. 

“It took me a long time to realize she doesn’t mean that I should just relax and not give a shit. She just knew I was gonna give myself a heart attack if I kept worrying.” Dean shrugged. “She doesn’t like it when I’m upset. Usually we work through it when I settle down. She keeps me from doing really stupid shit, all because I’m not thinking straight, and just...reacting to whatever’s in front of me.”

Sam and Dean both frowned into their beer, each lost in their own thinking for a moment. Dean drained his glass and signalled the waitress for another round. “She’d rather make herself sick with worry than watch me do it. Maybe because she handles it a fuckload better than I do, and she knows it. Mostly because she’d do anything for me and Adam, and she’ll take the burdens we carry any time. Now, I don’t know your sister, but maybe there’s some of that going on.”

Dean’s demeanor flipped into swagger-mode as soon as the waitress appeared. He made idle flirtatious chit-chat while Sam thought over what he said.

So maybe Kate _was_ really worried about the demon blood and was just trying to settle Sam down long enough to really look at the problem rationally. Sam rolled his eyes at himself. Of course that was it. Sam wanted to kick himself.

And Adam?

Sam looked up and noticed that the waitress had left, leaving Dean studying him curiously. “Thinkin’ hard, huh?”

Sam made a face and squirmed in his seat. “Your other brother, Adam, do you ever feel like Kate...I mean…”

Dean chuckled softly. “Like she favors him because he’s younger? Nah. He’s having a shit time right now, and just needs a little more attention. Why? You jealous of your brother or something?”

Sam squirmed more and opened his mouth to protest. It sounded waaaaay worse when Dean voiced it out loud. Dean just laughed. “Aw man, you’re a clusterfuck. I can read you like a three word pamphlet.” Sam blinked at that. “You have family issues and this witch pounced on it. It’ll probably wear off - doesn’t sound like you did something purposefully to screw with this Jessa person. She made you the second you walked in here. Maybe you just need some time to settle your ass down and figure some shit out. Most curses like that just fade.” He shook his head, continued to laugh softly and drank his beer.

Sam pushed away his empty glass and dragged the fresh beer towards him. “Yeah, but how long?”

Dean shrugged, swallowed, and put his glass down. “Depends on you, most likely.”

Sam let out a breath and sagged once more against the bench seat. “This sucks,” he sullenly griped. He was vividly aware of how childish he felt, looked, and sounded. 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Most definitely. I’d kill the bitch for fucking with my family, plain and simple, and probably make the curse permanent because of it.”

Sam snorted, imagining Dean doing just that.

“And then, I guess, I wouldn’t have to worry about my old man anymore. But the trade-off of losing Kate wouldn’t be worth it.”

Sam froze at that. Dean just dropped Dad? Really? Sam swallowed and carefully chose his next words. “My dad and I don’t see eye to eye at all.” He held his breath waiting to see how Dean would respond.

Dean shrugged and settled back. “My dad’s probably the greatest hunter...ever. The man’s a machine. But he can be a pain in the ass when he gets too rigid, too...military. I usually have to run interference between him and Kate to make sure she doesn’t have to deal with his crap. There’s just no arguing with him, sometimes, so I learned, hey, maybe find a way to work around it, you know? Still do what he wants, but do what I think’s right as well.” He shrugged again.

Sam slowly traced the condensation on his glass. “You do that for her?”

Dean barked a laugh and raised the glass to his lips. “I’d do anything for her. Confrontations are not pleasant with him. Better to be openly compliant and backdoor sneaky. Works, mostly. What about you?”

Sam frowned a little. “I’m openly non-compliant and very confrontational. Doesn’t work at all.”

Dean shook his head. “You seem really smart, man. I mean, you had great skill back at the house with that woman. I don’t think you’re a moron at hunting...not that I’ve seen you hunt, I just got a feeling about it. But when it comes to your family...you don’t seem to know what the hell you’re doing.”

Sam blinked away a few tears at Dean’s admonishment. “Yeah...I guess not.”

Probably sensing Sam’s discomfort, Dean nodded at a dartboard hanging in the back corner of the bar. “C’mon. Tell me more about this sister of yours and whether she’s hot or a giant like you. Never seen a chick giant.”

“Dude…”

Dean just laughed and sauntered over to the bar to request darts.

**xxxxx**

A few hours later, Sam sat in front of the victim’s house, waiting for his siblings. The afternoon passed quickly, just the two of them, playing darts and chatting about random shit. Sam found himself missing his brother’s company - when things were simple and easy. Sam sighed. Well, when _Sam_ wasn’t _making_ things complicated and difficult. 

Dean gave him a lot to think about, both intentionally and unintentionally. Maybe Dean was right, and Sam just needed to come to his senses, settle down, and the curse would be lifted.

But if Dean was wrong…

...And that’s what got him here in the first place. Sam thunked his head against the steering wheel. _Just listen to Dean, without argument, and see what happens. He’s never steered you wrong before._

The Impala rumbled to a stop behind him, and after taking a deep breath and giving himself one more quick rap on the head, Sam exited his car. He should’ve taken Tylenol or something for his headache, he thought, as he heard the Impala’s doors protest at being closed.

“Hey…” Dean greeted, shoving the keys in his pocket. He nodded at Adam, who trailed behind Kate. “This is Adam...Adam, this is Sam.”

Sam smiled, and held out his hand, which Adam took, returning Sam’s smile. “Hi there.”

“Dean said we’d be working together on this one. Thanks for helping us out!” Even though Adam looked tired and a little run down, his smile was genuine and his tone friendly.

“Oh, no problem. I should be thanking you, really.”

Kate snorted, hefting a large totebag on her shoulder. “Let’s get going, then you guys can do each other’s hair and eat chocolate together.”

Once she turned to walk towards the house, Dean winked at Adam, and they both stuck their tongues out at her. 

Without turning around, she glibly called out, “I’ll cut them off, gentlemen, I don’t give a shit. C’mon - hustle.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who just grinned and shrugged, giving Sam a _What can you do?_ look.

Adam jogged a few steps to catch up with her and whispered something in her ear. She leaned her head towards him, nudging his shoulder. He laughed and looped an arm around her. Sam heard him say, “I’ll be _fine…_ ” 

Dean produced the spare key, and unlocked the door. The house was dark inside, despite the daylight hour. Kate carefully placed the tote on a table, and began doling out small bags for the purification ritual, tools, and a couple cannisters of salt.

Sam looked around. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. “Something’s up...I can feel it.”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, me too. Let’s work fast. Sam - you and Kate do the upstairs. Adam and I’ll do down here.”

Everyone grabbed a tool for making a hole in the wall, and a couple hex bags. Dean pointed at the kitchen, wordlessly telling Adam to start in there. Sam nodded at the stairs, to which Kate grimaced, nodded back, and followed him.

As soon as the first tool connected with the first wall, the house erupted. The four hunters scrambled as objects flew across rooms, making it difficult to concentrate as they ducked boxes and furniture. The lights flickered constantly, giving off a strobe effect. 

Sam heard Dean yell. “It’s like we’re at a rave! How much longer up there?”

Kate answered, “One more wall!”

Sam grunted as a box bounced off his shoulder, and he watched his sister roll to avoid a flying chair. He slammed the bag into the final wall and yelled, “Done!” She nodded and they took off for the stairs.

When they reached the first floor, they flinched as the dining room table slide across the room, knocking Adam and Dean to the floor. As he ran over, Sam saw Adam reach out and shove the final bag into the final wall.

Then everything went silent.

Kate slid to a stop in front of Adam, already checking a nice goose egg on his forehead. Sam went straight to Dean, crouching in front of him. After checking him over, Sam noted a trail of blood along his arm. 

Huffing, Sam motioned with his hand. “Jesus, lookit you. Gimme your bandana, Dean, you’re bleeding.”

Suddenly aware of several eyes upon him, Sam looked around. They were all staring at him. 

_Right._

He doesn’t know Dean carries a bandana. He doesn’t need to hover because...because Dean isn’t his brother. Sam sat down, sighing heavily. “Sorry, I, um…”

Dean chuckled. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Your concern is touching.” He sluggishly pulled his bandana out of his pocket. Shaking it out, he handed it to Sam with a smirk. “Here - I -”

He never finished that thought. Dean’s eyes widened, focusing on something over Sam’s shoulder. Kate gasped, grabbing Adam and pulling him out of the way. Dean took hold of Sam’s shoulders, and flipped him over, shielding Sam’s body with his own.

**xxxxx**

They’d been sitting for over two hours in the hospital waiting room. Adam lay with his head on Kate’s lap, curled up on a couch that was way too small for them. Sam sat on the opposite side of the room in chair that should have been comfortable, but Sam couldn’t sit still long enough to appreciate it. His leg bounced, and he was currently destroying his fourth fingernail.

“Sam - seriously. You need to settle down or I’m gonna have a nurse sneak you something.” He looked over to find Kate watching him - a half amused, half irritated look on her face.

“Sorry - I just...I’m worried. I can’t...I don’t sit well when I’m worried.”

“I can see that. But getting yourself more worked up doesn’t change anything that’s happening back there.”

Sam sighed and fully extended his legs in front of him. After running his fingers through his hair for the millionth time, he stared at Kate. “Aren’t you worried?”

Kate huffed, running _her_ fingers through _Adam’s_ hair. _Not his._ Softly, she answered, “I want to throw up, I’m so worried. But if I lose it in front of Adam, he’ll lose it, and that’s not an option.” She looked up at Sam, her eyes a little wide and he could see her biting her lip to keep from crying. 

Sam rubbed his eyes, wincing as the pain in his shoulder chose that moment to announce itself. “I can’t just sit here.”

“Pacing isn’t going to bring us information or patch Dean up faster. I’ve done this more times than I care to count.” She blinked and looked down at her brother. “I can’t just sit here either, but I have to...for both of them.” She looked back up at Sam. “So I do.”

Sam almost held his breath. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

Frowning, Kate asked, “Do what?”

Sam vaguely gestured in front of him. “This - this...projecting calm thing...even when you don’t feel calm.”

Kate tilted her head to the side. “You have a sister, right?” At Sam’s look, the corner of her mouth lifted. “Dean mentioned it.” Sam nodded. “Does she know what you do?” Sam nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. “Doesn’t she do this for you? Doesn’t she...try to keep it together for you, so you can do what you need to do?” Sam swallowed, and nodded again. “Dean does it for us all the time. When it’s him on the line, then it’s my turn. And yeah, it’s usually him on the line, so I guess I do this a lot.”

Sam murmured to himself, “He always puts himself on the line.” Sam fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, wishing for the thousandth time, that it was him back there. Wishing that he could’ve sensed the table that was sailing towards him, and kept Dean out of harm.

Kate chuckled. “That he does.” Sam almost jumped, forgetting that he spoke out loud. “But that’s Dean. He’d rather die than watch someone else get a papercut. He’ll do whatever he can to save everyone else pain, no matter what.” She looked at him again. “So stop with the guilt. He...he likes you. I’ve never seen him take to anyone so fast. He has no regrets about saving your life, so you shouldn’t either.”

Sam released the fabric with a huff. “It’s not about regret. I just...he doesn’t even think first. He just throws himself on the grenade. I shoulda known something was gonna happen. It got too quiet, too fast. I just saw the blood on him, and that’s where my attention went.”

Kate raised an eyebrow at him. “So this was your fault? You sure we’re not related?”

Sam’s stomach flip-flopped at that, and he rubbed his eyes to mask his tears. He didn’t know how to answer her, so he settled for pacing.

Kate sighed, leaving him be.

A nurse walked in carrying a clipboard. “Dean Harrison’s family?”

Sam opened his mouth to answer, then froze. He wasn’t Dean’s family anymore. Swallowing heavily, he nodded at Kate, who nudged Adam off her lap as she stood to address the nurse. “How is he?”

The nurse smiled. “He’ll be fine. He lost a bit of blood on the way here, but it looked worse than it was. He’s been stitched up, has some pain meds in his system, and is already asking for you.”

Kate sighed, hanging her head for a moment, before raising it and smiling at the nurse. “Thank you. Can we see him now?”

The nurse nodded. “Absolutely. I think it’ll settle him down to know you’re here.”

Kate nodded, turning to Adam who was now wide awake. “He’s okay?”

She nodded again. “C’mon - let’s go see him.”

Adam slowly stood, stretching. He saw Sam standing off to the side and held out his hand. “Hey man, thanks for staying and keeping my sister company while I passed out like a pansy.”

Sam huffed a smile and shrugged, shaking Adam’s hand. “No problem. I wanted to make sure Dean was okay.”

Adam smiled and nodded. He faced Kate, who was fussing with the totebag and smoothing out her shirt. He took her by the chin and gently said, “Hey… _hey._..he’s fine, okay? I’m fine, he’s fine, Sam’s fine. Stop fretting.”

Kate blinked at him. “Fretting? You need to stop spending so much time with Bobby.” She sighed. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

They followed the nurse towards Dean’s room. Sam just...stood there. Feeling lost and lonely, he sat back down, wondering what to do.

The next thing he knew, Kate was back, with a cup of coffee. She sat next to him, an embarrassed expression on her face, and cleared her throat nervously. “Um...here. Looks like you could use it.” Sam took it, smiling his thanks, feeling a slow blush creep up his neck towards his cheeks. He didn’t want her to see him sitting there, as if waiting for something.

Even though he was totally doing that.

She thumbed towards the door. “I bet I could get you back there, if you want.”

Sam straightened so fast he almost spilled his coffee. “Yeah? You think?”

Kate laughed a little, shaking her head. “Maybe you two need to start dating. Yeah, I think so. Just hang here for a bit. I’ll come get you, okay?”

She stood to leave, when Sam grabbed her wrist. “Thanks...for everything.”

Kate hesitated a second, before leaning down and kissing Sam on the cheek. “Thanks for sticking around.” Now she blushed, and once Sam realized she wasn’t eyeing him as a brother, he quickly let go of her arm and felt his face growing even hotter, which he totally knew sent her the wrong message.

Once she left, Sam gulped the coffee, hoping the caffeine would help his headache and wondering when he’d be able to see Dean. After a couple minutes, his eyelids grew heavy and he yawned into his hand.

Stretching his legs out, Sam figured he could rest for a couple minutes. Kate would wake him. He closed his eyes, yawning again, sleepily rubbing his eyes like a small child. He was vaguely aware of someone sitting next to him, which kind of bothered him, because he should’ve been able to detect their presence.

Sluggishly, Sam lolled his head to the right and peeled open one eye. A very fuzzy Jessa was smirking at him, running her fingers through his hair. Every alarm in Sam’s body went off, but he was completely unable to do anything about it. He tried to sit up, but his limbs were too heavy to move. 

“Shhhhhh, Sammy. It’s okay. Just sleep. I’ve got you.”

His mouth opened to protest, but he only succeeded in emitting a sleepy grunt before everything went black.

**xxxxx**

When Sam woke, it took a minute for the fog to lift. He was aware of being on a bed, under a blanket. He remembered the curse. Jessa. The hunt. The hospital.

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam bolted upright, his legs flailing and tangling in the blanket. He had to make sure Dean was okay. He had to know Jessa didn’t do anything to Kate or Adam.

“Whoa, there! It’s flattering that I’m your first thought, but Jesus, Sammy, settle down.” Strong hands gripped Sam’s shoulder and chest, gently but forcefully pushing him back on the bed. Sam gaped at the blurry figure next to him, which after a few blinks, revealed a very amused Dean.

“Seriously, dude, calm down. I’m _right here_.”

Sam fought to control his heart rate. “When...when’d you get outta the hospital?” He thought his words were slurring together, but Dean’s expression told him he was still understood.

“Hospital? Haven’t been in the hospital. You’re the one who’s been sick. I swear you’re going for a Winchester record for most sick days in a row.”

Sam frowned at him, gripping the hands that were fussing with the blanket and Sam’s shirt. “No...no - the poltergeist nailed you in the back with a table, and we were at the hospital...but you didn’t know me, and -”

“Okay, Dorothy. Let’s take this one thing at a time. I’m fine. We haven’t hunted the poltergeist yet. You’ve been sick all day. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

Blinking furiously, Sam struggled to understand Dean’s words. “Wait...you...I’m...you know who I am?”

Dean sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Sam, I know who you are. You’re my pain in the ass brother who decided to stroll in the rain last night and sleep in the Impala without changing out of his wet clothes. You also managed to fall on your way back and bang your shoulder on the concrete. Shoulda been your head. It would’ve done less damage.”

Sam huffed, and his eyes welled with tears. “So I’m a Winchester? I’m still in the family?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “What fucked up fever dream did you have? What other family would take your emo ass?”

Sam sniffed and wiped at his eyes, relief flooding through him. “I dunno, I just… _yeah._..it was a fucked up dream.”

Dean chuckled, smoothing out the blanket. “You okay now? Know who you are and where you are and all that shit? Do I need to give you the concussion quiz?”

Now Sam rolled his eyes. “No, Dean, I don’t need the quiz.” He looked around the room and frowned. “Where’s Kate? And Adam?”

Dean gestured with his head toward the door. “Went for some food and more Tylenol. Apparently you take a lot.”

Sam pulled at a loose thread in the blanket. In a small voice, he asked, “Is Kate mad?”

Dean wrinkled his brow. “Um… _no._..why would she be mad? It wasn’t _her_ leather seats your wet ass slept on last night.”

Sam nodded slowly, letting the jibe pass. So...Kate hadn’t told Dean about their fight. Sam closed his eyes and sighed. He had to fix things with her.

Dean ruffled his hair affectionately. “Glad your back with us. Was getting a little worried, there.”

Without opening his eyes, Sam huffed a laugh. _You have no idea._

He heard the door unlock, and he opened his eyes to see Kate and Adam walking inside, carrying plastic bags.

Dean stood up. “Hey - look who decided to rejoin us.”

“Sam!” Adam plopped his bags on the table and jogged over, sitting carefully next to him on the bed. “Christ, you scared us. How’re you feeling?”

The honest outpouring of concern made Sam feel even worse about his earlier attitude towards his brother. His emotions threatened to get the best of him, so he quickly rubbed his eyes and rasped, “I’m okay. Still waking up…” He faked a yawn, hoping that would explain the tears pooling in his eyes.

Adam nodded and patted his leg. “Just rest. We’re heading home as soon as you’re okay.”

Sam opened his eyes. “Wait, what? What about getting your stuff? And that poltergeist?”

Adam shook his head. “Dude, we’ll get my shit another time. We should get you home instead. It’s not a big deal.”

Dean was at the table, rifling through the bags for his food. “Kate and I’ll take care of the geist tonight. It’s all set.”

Sam’s eyes found Kate, who was busying herself with the bags, avoiding his gaze and not saying anything.

He swallowed hard. “No, I’m fine. We should get your stuff. You’ve waited long enough and...it’s important.”

Kate froze, listening, but still not making eye contact.

Dean pulled his burgers out of the bag. “I dunno...you were pretty sick, Sammy. I don’t want - “

Sam sat up, took a deep breath, and gave Dean The Eyes. “Seriously, Dean, I’m okay. We need to do this.”

Adam said nothing, looking to Dean for direction. Dean sighed, plopping into a chair and unwrapping his food. “Let’s see how you’re doing in the morning, okay? If you’re feeling okay, we’ll go. If not, we’ll go back to Bobby’s - no argument. And I’ll know if you’re faking it, so no faking it.” He turned to his burger, taking a huge bite.

“No faking it, I promise.” Sam winked at Adam and mouthed, _We’re totally getting your stuff._

Adam grinned, ducking his head and went to get his food.

Sam turned his attention back to his sister, who was holding a canister of what he assumed was soup. She grabbed a plastic spoon and slowly walked over. Their eyes met.

Sam moved over. _Sit with me?_

Sighing, Kate sat down and opened the canister, revealing steaming chicken soup. She set it on the nightstand and shuffled even closer. She still hadn’t said anything, and Sam knew he had to bridge the rift that was between them. The rift _he_ caused.

He sat up, leaned over, and touched his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his hair. 

_I’m so sorry…_

_Me too._

Sam leaned back and studied her face. He saw the worry in her eyes. He thought of Dean’s words. “I’m okay,” he murmured.

She met his gaze and tilted her head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He picked up a corner of her shirt and pulled at it. _C’mere…_

Kate sat next to him, letting Sam lay his head on her shoulder. He yawned, burrowing further in the bed until he was comfortable.

He watched Dean tuck into his second burger. He watched Adam eat, while grinning at Dean who was explaining the key components to a perfect burger.

Sam could handle the demon blood. He could handle a new brother. He could handle it. He _would_ handle it.

He felt Kate’s hands in his hair, her actions lulling him back to sleep. Snuggling closer to his sister, he let her do just that.

==end==


End file.
